


Only If

by Being_Delirious



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: And gore, Angst, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Dopplegangers, Help, Killing, Maybe? In the future, Minecraft, No clear plot, Still unclear, This is and excuse to write murder, cursing, graphic fights, no relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Being_Delirious/pseuds/Being_Delirious
Summary: "How do we decipher you from others?!""Easy. Our hearts don't beat the same rhythm."Or rather... not at all.
Comments: 18
Kudos: 71





	1. That's Not Him [I]

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't have a clear plot for this. I don't know what I'm doing.

"No... no, this can't be happening." The boy did not care about the colour that had stained his clothes. All that mattered to him at that moment was the fleeting heat of the body in his arms. He was too late. Too late to save his best friend. 

He buried his face against his friend's chest in an attempt to muffle the loud, gruff sounds that escaped his throat as raw waves of misery racked through his entire form.

"No. No, no no no no, NO. Bad, come on! Wake up!" He wasn't sure anymore whether the rolls of liquid down his cheeks were tears or came from the rain. Not like it mattered anymore. Clutching the lifeless body closer to his chest, Zak shook his head, not wanting to believe the reality he was in. "You're trolling. You've got to be trolling... Bad, come on. This isn't funny anymore," 

He ran his fingers through his best friend's muddy brown locks. The glasses were cracked, left forgotten a meter away. The body remained unresponsive despite his several attempts at shaking it. If only, he could've...

Zak shut his eyes. Unable to look at the face of his best friend covered in blood. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please wake up, please." The boy continued to plead, wishing that maybe, for a merciful miracle to happen. That Darryl's body will jump up on his feet, yell a loud "Get pranked!" and everything will be back to normal.

Of course, nothing such as that happened. The silence he got and the lack of a beating heart were enough to crush his optimism.

That day, the sky had turned grey; the forest went eerily silent; leaving nothing but a defenceless boy mourning for a dead friend. That day, the world grieved with him.   
  


* * *

It was late in the afternoon when it started. The daylight still up providing enough source for everyone who needed it at the moment. The wind gave off a brisk push that made the trees lazily sway over, a few leaves coming off its branches, landing down on the ground with a slow fall. 

Just outside their little cabin sat the three male all huddled up around the table. Two of them are currently focused on a competitive battle in chess while the other one sat by the side with boredom written all over his face. The man with a white bandana wrapped around his head heaved out a loud sigh.

His friend, one with a mop of dirty blonde hair, gave him a dirty look. "Sapnap, quit it. You're throwing away my focus." Nick scowled in annoyance. 

"I'm bored! Let's go hunting or something!" 

Their other friend, George, clicked his tongue. Moving his horse to his requested position. "You've been bored for over 45 minutes, Sapnap. We can go mining once I beat Dream in this." A chuckle came out of Clay upon hearing this, he picked up a pawn for his next move. The pair could hear the youngest groan in frustration but chose to ignore it. 

Leaning back on his wooden chair, Nick crossed his arms in exasperation yet resolved to wait for the guys to finish their game. The time ticked by, a distant noise of a clock could be heard from inside of their wooden shack. 

Nothing but the sound of leaves rustling could be heard from around them. The silent competition between the two players brewing bigger. Not far after George has taken one of Clay's bishops, Nick's ears perked up at the sound of leaves crushing underneath some footsteps. 

Being the most perceptive from the bunch, the man's head whipped to the left where he saw a familiar face emerging from the woods and unto their porch. 

Nick raised a brow. Not expecting their friend to visit. "Bad?"

BadBoyHalo turned his head and spotted the owner of the voice. From Nick's call out, both Clay and George's head reared to acknowledge their friend. "Hey Bad," The brunette greeted before going back to focus in their game. Clay, on the other hand, did not bother to look twice as he was busy watching his opponent's next move. He did ask a question though,

"Bad, what took you and Skeppy so long? Didn't you guys were supposed to be back on yesterday?" 

The blonde could feel Bad's presence right behind him. A shuddering chill of air passed through the three and opted it as a sign of the sun's heat retreating the earth's surface. They were all expecting an explanation. Probably in the lines of "Oh my goodness..." and the whole narration of the brunette's trip. What they got instead was another inquiry coming from a voice that sounded like it wasn't used for years. 

"Who's... the strongest?"

George remained silent. Waiting for Clay, his opponent, to make his move. The two of them still heavily focused although they did take note of their friend's weird sound. "I'm busy-"

"Me, of course." 

Nick stood up with a thumb proudly pointed on himself with a wide grin. BadBoyHalo just gave him a blank stare; almost as if ridiculing him. Nick raised a brow at this. "Want me to show you? Come on, let's spar!" He loudly declared. Already hopping off their wooden fence towards the open area at the side next to the wooden shack. Giving no choice but for BadBoyHalo to follow a suit. 

Stretching out his arms, Nick waited for his friend to walk around the fence and stand in front a few meters away from him. "So... only fists?" The whole situation was a bit off-putting since the lack of verbal response from his usual chatty friend. The man in a black hood with red stripes running by the sides shook his head; summoning out an iron sword. 

"Ohoh, straight to the heavy part I see?" Nick also took out the iron sword from his Hotbar, already aching for a good fight. For a brief second, both of the players' hearts popped next to their head, an indication that they were about to go in an overly active activity. This will mostly happen before a spar, a dispute, or any adrenaline-involved activity. It would show up once again whenever a player's health gets dangerously low. 

Nick caught a swift of the number ten next to Bad's health and set his grip tight on his sword. Something tells him that whatever he's going to face was something unusual from their current day-to-day training. 

BadBoyHalo took the first initiative. Grey gloves clasped around the sword's handle, raising up high and launching forward. Nick blocked the strike with his own weapon. The sound of metal clacking filled the air around them. Nick, caught-off guard from his friend's sudden gained confidence, shrugged it off and viewed it in a positive light where he expects to see the most intense fight in Bad yet. 

Their spar continued with mostly the boy backing up from the seemingly endless swings of the other's iron sword from left to right. Whenever he tries to take over the offensive side, he would always get backed up, staying on defence. It was almost like he and Bad were in a serious fight. 

Having enough of it, Nick took two steps forward. Shifts his balance and used an angle to land a hit on his friend's side, aiming to knock the air out of his lungs. What he received in return was a sharp slap on his wrist, an ultimatum where the sword in his hand gets thrown off. 

Raising both of his arms, Nick let out a frightened chuckle. "Okay Bad, I surrender, you win." He took a few steps backwards to show he wasn't bluffing. "Damn, since when did you get good at a close-combat battle? I thought you were only good at archery." 

A shudder ran down his spine. Bullet sweats building upon his forehead as Nick watched BadBoyHalo's grin widen. The guy was still not talking. 

"Bad? What, you want a Round 2? Put down your sword then."

The said-male pursued his target. Every step he took was a mimic of a tiger creeping up on their prey. Somehow, with the shit-eating grin still placed upon his face, the strange, unwelcome air around the brunette did not fluctuate. Nick's eyes dropped down to see that his opponent was still holding his weapon. "Hey, what are you-" 

A hiss caught off his words. The sound of iron piercing through flesh was the only noise that reached Nick's ears. The boy's eyes widened, his jaw stuck open as he reluctantly looked down to see that BadBoyHalo had ripped through the lower side of his stomach. The unbearable pain being overruled by numbness. He looked back up to find his own fear reflecting from his friend's amused eyes. 

Glancing at the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of his health up from ten descending to four filled-hearts. "W-what-" even his words were left hanging off the air. Nick's mouth filling up with blood once he felt the sharp edges of the sword gets thrust deeper inside his body. 

Clay picked up his queen, a delirious grin gracing his features at the knowledge that his friend was about to take another L in chess from him. Putting down the chesspiece, a loud scream from George brought him out of his winning daze. "DREAM!" George abruptly stood up, the chair he was sitting on automatically falling from his rash movement.

The blonde glared at him, irritation written all over his face as he thought his friend was just trying to put a stop to his winning streak. He followed his friend's troubled gaze, "What in the fuck are you- SAPNAP!" 

Clay pushed himself off his seat. Knocking the chesspieces in the process as both men hop over the fence and towards their injured friend. Nick's hearts were rapidly blinking; showing three red full left. By now, the pair who were in a spar earlier has already escalated into an undignified beating. BadBoyHalo had his grip on Nick's shirt to hold him still as he repeatedly brought a gloved fist down on the latter's already-bruised up face. The now-bloodied sword still punctuated through Nick's stomach.

Each damage he takes, half of his heart gets chunked off his HP. 

Prying BadBoyHalo away from his friend, both Clay and George surrounded the youngest boy in concern. George held Nick's torso closer to his, the growing panic did no help in his on the spot decision-making. George ran his shaking hands to brush the hair off his friend's bloodied face, painfully aware of the fact that the injured man had only half a heart left in his health. 

Clay was both confused and furious. Unable to believe that his best friend nearly killed Nick. "What the fuck Bad?!" A growl crawled up of his throat but got lost on the way when he saw the initiator's demented grin. BadBoyHalo has a sickening glint in his eyes and a newly summoned sword in his hand.

Turning his body in a stance, Clay pulled both of his shield and his diamond sword out of his Hotbar and tightened his hold in both items. Keeping calm despite the turns of events, Clay kept his voice steady as he could. Ignoring the nerve-wracking feeling settling in the bottom of his gut.

"George, take Sapnap to the base and nurse him back to health. I will go after you." 

George furrowed his brows, although, despite this, he did not protest any further. He trusts that Clay could do well. Slipping his arms under Nick's body, the older friend stood up with a grunt. Taking the extra precaution of his friend's HP. "If you're not there in the next 30 minutes, I will run back here and drag your ass inside the house." 

Clay didn't bother to face him knowing that a nod would already suffice his friend's worry. Heavy footsteps ran back inside the wooden house leaving the blonde with his friend's almost-killer. He should've noticed it much sooner. Should've looked up and regarded the sudden appearance of the man in his territory. If only he was just a bit attentive. The voice should've given it away in the first place.

Raising up the shield in defence, BadBoyHalo was now already wielding his sword. Clay could see his guarded expression from the other's self-deluded eyes that sparked no life from the inside. No hint of regret nor worry at all. Clay's expression grimed at the fact. This was not his best friend. 

Just like before, BadBoyHalo initiated their battle. His footsteps rather loud but quick, a trick of intimidation yet Clay held his ground. Putting out his shield, the other boy's movements were agile. The dark-hooded male ran up to the blonde, stepping on the latter's shield and using it to land himself behind Clay. Quick with the reaction, Clay jumped forward in time to dodge the attack from behind. He whipped around and used his sword to strike back, not wanting to go down without landing a single blow on BadBoyHalo. 

With these actions as evidence, Clay has concluded; this was not the BadBoyHalo they know. 


	2. That's Not Him [II]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skeppy's got bad news to relay... but so does Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swear words, curses, a lot of cussing in this chapter.

Every step he took felt as if he was leaping closer to judgement hall. Nothing but the deafening silence to accompany him towards the impending lash out that he would get. The path he took suddenly felt unfamiliar. It was like entering a house you lived in for decades yet still feeling like a stranger in your living room.

Zak felt goosebumps prickle along his skin. He could still remember the distant chatter of his best friend right beside him whenever they travel back towards the particular cabin. It suddenly occurred to him that this was going to be his first time visiting without Darryl. As he wanders through the dimmed forest, Zak chewed the inside of his lip, scolding himself for sidetracking once again.

Because how? How in the hell was he going to relay the information to everyone?

The boy felt his insides twist in unnatural cruelty. He placed a hand over his constricting chest as a choked out sob escaped his lips upon the knowledge of not only facing his new reality but the fact that he would continue living with the absence of a person he was so incredibly close with.

How was he going to tell Darryl's group of friends that their sweet, energetic, best friend has died? Zak's balled his hands into fists; halting his pace to let the excruciating misery take in place. Deep down, he knows he won't ever be able to look at them straight in the eye. Not without reminding him of what he could've done.

A curse underneath his breath, the young man wiped the tears away before resuming his walk. Oh gosh... what was he going to tell Vincent? He hasn't talked with the latter for ages after their little dispute.

Arriving at the same wooden house the dream team resides in, Zak walked up the porch and took four careful knocks ere burying his shaking hands inside of his clothes' pocket. The sound of his heartbeat reached his ears forcing him to stay grounded. He was there, standing, waiting for the inevitable. After creating a humble gravestone for his best friend, the boy decided to head straight to the people he feels that deserves to know.

The soft buzzing sound of crickets in the background was enough to set in the mood for the night. The only lights he was receiving were the ones from the wooden built house and the large, ever-glowing moon up above. Zak backed up a bit, moving over to the windows to see if anyone was inside to answer the door.

Never in his life did Zak thought that the neatly decorated house could ever give him such unsettling vibes. It looked isolated. A place that was built for an unknown anomaly. His ears caught the faint noise of a hushed conversation and took that as a yes. Facing the door once again, the boy prepared himself to give another set of knocks. His knuckles were already inches away from the birch-wood door when it abruptly swung inwards.

A hand grabbed a hold of the boy's wrist and in a swift motion, dragged Zak inside, shut the door behind the boy and slammed him against it. The act made Zak wince; pain flaring up his spine. He swears he heard a crack when his back slammed against the sturdy door, this action pushed out the air off his lungs. The boy's ears are filled with ringing din; the world spinning before him.

Blinking the blurry spots dancing away in his vision, Zak cleared out his head to process his current situation. "Dream?" This was not the kind of greeting he expected from the guy. Speaking of which, Clay looked like he had just come back from a village raid. The ragged up shirt chipped mask, and sliced cheek were all signs of someone who had just gotten out of a brawl.

In other words, the blonde boy looked worse for wear. Clay had an arm up against Zak's throat to show the latter that he means business. Although, he would be lying if he said he wasn't expecting for the other man to settle in a calm state, not even trying to wiggle out of his grip—yet it didn't mean he was going to let his guard down. For all he knows it could be another trap.

Zak watched as the boy before him tried to even out his breath. Clay was visibly panting with a maddened look on his green eyes. The action reminded Zak of a pillager's ravager. An ounce of exhaustion, paranoia, and adrenaline seeping through Clay's stern facade. Zak opened his mouth to speak but the blonde had beaten him to it.

"What the fuck, Skeppy! What is this?? Some kind of an elaborate prank?! If so, this is a hundred times fucked up!"

The arm against his throat pressed in, putting enough pressure to restrict the access of his windpipe, cutting off oxygen.

"Wh- what?"

Zak managed to choke out, placing both of his hands on the arm and pushed back to give himself a space to breathe. Clay's gaze narrowed sharp. The flame in his eyes spreading wide with his anger as fuel. Was Zak really just going to play around and pretend like he didn't know?! As much as like at the peak of a mountain, Clay was this close to jumping off the high ground and land himself without a parachute. He was this close to crossing the borderline; close to losing his patience from waiting for an explanation.

"Don't 'what' me! I'm talking about how fucking Bad almost committed a murder! He stabbed SapNap with a fucking sword, Skeppy! He's at one fucking heart!"

A storm raged outside with the same amount of intensity as Clay's roar. The grip he had on the other boy did not falter even after he watched Zak's eyes widen at the content of his words like he, himself, couldn't believe it. Heck, even Clay still didn't believe it! And that is why he needs a damn explanation right at that second.

The boy with raven hair froze up; feeling all kinds of emotions but happiness rushing through him in one go. Zak felt his entire body floating up and out in space. His vision being covered in nothing but darkness as gravity around him stopped doing its job. His figure tipped backwards and Zak reached out in front of him, expecting to grab something that could pull him out of this gut-wrenching nightmare. Suddenly, it's as if he was picked up, dragged, and dropped in a pool 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Drenched with the shocking information that his deceased best friend was currently alive and stabbing people.

A shadow crossed Zak's face; with newfound strength, the boy shoved Clay off him in a single move. Hands balling into fists, Zak kept his head down to try and contain his growing anger. He was not going to let anyone tarnish the memory of his best friend. "Stabbing Sapnap? Dream, are you joking right now?!"

Clay scowled at the man before him. Already scrolling through his Hotbar if the worst comes into play. "I fucking hope I was, but no! I saw it with my own two eyes that Bad used a sword and ripped it through Sapnap!"

Zak felt a twitch by his left eye, annoyance overriding his system.

"That's not true."

For Clay, that statement sounded like the man was in denial.

"It fucking is-"

"That's not true! Stop lying! Bad could never do that!" Hands coming up to clasp over his ears, an attempt to block out any other noise from around him whilst he screeched out the words off his mouth. "He can't do that! He'll never do that!" 

Agony was the emotion that popped out among the rest and for a split second, Clay felt sympathy for the screaming boy. He too would've said those exact same words if he hadn't just fought BadBoyHalo earlier. The sickening grin, nothing but mischievous and the lack of empathy showing through it. Clay heaved out a sigh,

"That's what I thought before he took a sword and almost killed SapNap with it. Luckily, both George and I were able to apprehend him. He's tied in my basement right now with George keeping an eye on him. You could see him for yourself-" 

Zak snapped a glare at the blonde's direction; completely serious. The word no one ever thought that would be used to describe the boy. 

"Bad's dead." If Zak had to be blunt about it, then fuck it.

In a quick snap, like a flood in the city, a hurricane of emotions drained out of Clay's system.

"What?"

It was either the whole world must've gained a glitch or both Zak and Darryl were playing a very crude, moral-crushing prank. Going as far as to say that his best friend had died? That's a wicked fabrication. A gut-wrenching idea. So one of them tries to kill their friend and the other's story involves the perpetrator in his basement actually being dead. This is insane. A fucking sick joke!

Clay grabbed Zak by his shirt with a hiss. If they plan on keeping out this whole charade then they're threading on incredibly thin ice. "Do you take me for a fool, Skeppy? I've had it of these insane lies. Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Zak retaliated by giving the blonde a piercing glare. The boy was mentally drained and exhausted. What was there anything else he could do to convince the other man that he wasn't lying! A cacophony of hurried footsteps came up from the stairs to reveal George who was also in a similar state to Clay.

There was a smudge on his face, eyes wide in an adrenaline rush, and goggles cracked. 

"Bad... he... he escaped." George managed to say in between his heavy breathing. 

With this newfound information, Clay immediately dropped his hold on Zak and rushed through the basement steps. A bit lost and confused, Zak decided to follow the pair into their basement.

The lights flickered, wooden stairs creaked under the hurried steps of three people. Having never seen the team's basement before, Zak noticed countless of items on display. Three crafting tables, blast furnaces and possibly stacked five chests all fit in the stone-cold room. The place has obviously hadn't been used for quite some time until recently considering the number of specks of dust that littered the floor. Cobwebs hanging by the corners and what looked like two brewing stands were placed on top of an old, wooden table. 

The footsteps on the floor have shown quite a story for the young man. Multiple footprints, a dustless spot next to a post and untied ropes, and the most obvious of all, the wide-open trapdoor that Zak knows leads out to the back of the house. 

"Shit! Fuck! What the fuck?!" A string of curses flowed out of the blonde's mouth, kicking the few chairs and the discarded rope in the process. "How the hell did he get away?!" It was directed at George. 

George gripped his hair, eyes still wide in a panic. "He had a damn arrow! He used that to cut the ropes while I was distracted looking out for you!" Then raised his voice. "You were taking too long! I told you already, Bad isn't stable and you left me down here alone with him!" 

A mimic of a bull that has seen red, Clay puffed out air through his nostrils. "This isn't the time to be such a pussy, George! It's Bad we're talking about, you can handle him!"

"Oh really? Like how you needed my help when you decided to stay back and fight?!"

At the sides, Zak was left feeling every bit of disbelief in every indivisible bone inside his body. Confusion numbing away his head as he stood there and watch the pair argue like Darryl was just there. Actually alive! It was ridiculous! The brunette couldn't be alive because Zak saw him. Zak saw him, held him, and Zak was the one who buried him!

The cold, pale face of his best friend flashed inside before his eyes. Zak was there, holding a damn shovel in hand, doing his best to dig despite breaking down every five minutes. The boy 

"Shut the fuck up!" 

George whipped his head around, appearing puzzled at first before realizing who it was that interrupted their argument. He gave Zak a dirty look, opening his mouth, ready to spit out his aching annoyance and confusion. He didn't get the chance because the shorter boy had already beaten him to it. 

With the growing turmoil in his chest, Zak dropped his arms down, fist clenching and unclenching at the same time as he wracks his brain for any other possible words he could use to drop off the subject lightly. Nothing came to mind and he knew the others were already losing their patience for an explanation. 

"Bad-" he paused to stop a choke that signalled a whole 'nother round of grief overtaking him. 

"Darryl is Dead." 

Already having his head cleared to take in more information, Clay calmly replied, ignoring the stabbing feeling in his gut. "Skeppy, look. For the last time, that isn't a good thing to joke about. How can Bad be dead if we literally had him tied up moments ago? There is in no fucking way-" The tone has come out in a more demanding way as if trying to convince someone else rather than the boy in the blue hoodie.

"I buried him with my own g*ddamn hands! I held him close- Dream, there wasn't a single heartbeat! He's dead, he's dead, and gods do I wish I was joking but I am n-not. Darryl died in the forest; It's not a troll." 

For the thirteenth time that night, the thunder roared across the sky, joining as the clouds poured out their heaviest bucket yet. Lightning flashing along, letting up the darkened area on the outskirts of the house; and with a pained look, heavy set of unsmiling eyes staring back at him in desperation. With a pluck at his soul and a crack in his heart, Clay understood. 

He was serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no schedule for this story yet. :/ Not even a proper plot.

**Author's Note:**

> Ehhh... part 2? :p


End file.
